Burning Flowers
by starlingnight
Summary: It's a peaceful evening for Phoenix and Maya - until Dahlia shows up. P/M
1. The Urn is Whole

Their names become a mantra, repeated over and over, etching themselves into her consciousness like fire. She dwells long and hard on those names; invents new and delightful punishments for each of them, ways to make them scream.

Phoenix Wright...

_Who knew how much he would grow, how much he would change! I hate him! I hate him for being like her... I hate him for ruining me... I hate him for hating me...he used to love me, no, he loved that sister of mine, and I was so used to it – I dismissed it as contemptible drivel because EVERYONE loved me! But then, then he changed...he changed. And I didn't. I don't have someone to love me anymore. Nobody loves me anymore, not even my sickly, flowery, disgusting angelic mask...the mask that has gone up in flames._

Maya Fey...

_She scorned me! Deceived me, though she didn't know it, made me suffer the indignity of being her... _

_And most of all...Mia Fey...I will punish you! I will torture the ones you love most, play with their minds and then they will die._

_Mia Fey, I will have my revenge._

_Mia Fey!_

_MIA FEY!_

Dwelling on your emotions – in her case, hatred - for too long in the spirit world, where feelings rule rather than physical form, tends to have unexpected results. She knows that, has worked it out from the angels and demons – the spirits who are always flitting between worlds, never resting for a second.

But that name, those names...they are constantly circling above her head like hawks, shrieking at her, mocking at her, cursing and jeering at her. She doesn't know how long she has been sitting there in that corner of the spirit world, shivering and screeching and putting all of her energy into hate.

There is no time where she sits; no day, no night. In the spirit world, it all depends on perspective; whether you see the world as light or dark. All she knows is what is happening to her.

Then, suddenly –

Peace.

The hatred, the fear, the love and pain and regret and fury had boiled over, too much for her to handle, and she couldn't move for the emotions that were exploding inside her, when it had all knotted itself up and let her rest.

She feels oddly calm, as she has not felt for so long. She looks around her; it doesn't look like the spirit world any more. She is surrounded by blankness. Not darkness, blankness, a sort of twilight haze, like how it feels before being channelled. She feels power within her - black power, dark power of a terrible nature.

Now she knows where all that utter hatred has gone...She licks her lips, finding herself to have some semblance of a physical form, and cuts her tongue on her sharp teeth. She stretches her clawlike fingers, and looks at herself in the twilight haze, her red hair swirling around her like blood. Ghostly, burning butterflies flitter through the waving strands, and her eyes are red as her hair.

What is she? A demon - that much is prevalent; a strong spirit capable of evil, evil things. So she has powers...

Oh, and she will use them. She will use them.

Maya Fey...Phoenix Wright...

MIA FEY!

-PHOENIX-

Iris' trial...I'm still thinking about its implications, even two months later. She's in prison. Maya will have to leave for Kurain soon, to take up her position as Master. Dahlia...Dahlia is off in the spirit world somewhere, contemplating her failure for the rest of eternity, as she should be.

I've told Maya the story of my college days, how I dated Iris, her old, silly nickname for me, and Dahlia's words while Maya was channelling her. I hadn't wanted to talk about it. I knew that she was badly cut up about the whole thing. So was I, actually. But she had insisted.

I just want things to be how they've been for three years now – Maya and I, defending clients and investigating cases together. I just don't want any of that to change. And she's leaving soon – and so far it looks like that's going to be permanent.

There she is, curled up at the desk with a bowl of noodles and an old book on spirit channelling, frowning slightly as she tries to figure out what the handwritten Japanese characters mean. I guess she'd taken some classes as an acolyte. Her hair isn't done up for once; the amethyst beads are lying on the desk, as is her Magatama necklace. I guess they must get pretty uncomfortable at times.

She slurps some noodles and turned a page. The lamplight is shining on her midnight-black hair. It's very pretty hair. Very black. Very pretty. I stare at it drowsily for a while.

"Nick," she calls out to me at about nine-thirty, "I, I'm sleepy..."

"Why don't you put that book away for the night, then?" I suggest, getting up from the couch to take a look. "What's it called?"

"Something about, uh, angels and d-demons," Maya yawns.

"And you need to know this?"

"Yeah..." She slumps to the desk. "Tired..." she said softly.

I smile slightly, and tug her out of the seat, before half carrying her to the couch. I check the desk; it looks like she'd been taking notes in English. I pick them up and read a few lines.

_- Demons powerful, evil spirits given powers beyond normal spirits by negative emotions_

_- Don't need a spirit medium channelling them to take control of a person – possession_

_-Spirit mediums must __not__ remove Magatama necklaces/amethyst jewellery – these protect against demon possession_

Hmm. Scary stuff. I hope she doesn't get nightmares from this book. Even though she doesn't seem to be following its instructions – she always takes off her Magatama when she's relaxing. Demons, huh...I shrug off my suit jacket and chuck it in the corner. I'll hang it up later.

Of course, they're probably a myth or something. I hope.

I sit on the couch next to her and lay back my head. She's still stressed out from the Hazakura trial, I can tell. She doesn't need to be adding to the pressure with more work. She's done the acolyte training – what else does she have to do to be a worthy Master?

Time passes. I fetch Maya a blanket and stare at the dusty law books on the shelves.

Wait...what's that? I shut my eyes. Open them...there it is again. A flash of red! I sit straight up.

Out of the corner of my eye...ah! It's a flash of bright, crimson red. A swish of cloth...of hair?

No...I'm hallucinating. I have to be. Unbidden, my eyes flick towards the book still lying open on my desk. I stand up.

A giggle. High pitched, sweet, and composed of utter malice. I spin around. A few white butterflies flutter over and hover around my head. I back away, and they burst into flames.

"Wh-what..." I stutter. I'm dreaming...right? Or, more accurately, 'nightmaring'.

"Yes?"

Maya smiles at me. She seems to have woken up, and is stretching sleepily. "Hi, Phoenix."

Hmm. It probably had been a hallucination caused by tiredness. I put on a smile. "Oh, hey. Looks like you've woken up, Maya?"

Where'd the questioning tone come from? She yawns and stands up. "Yeah, you woke me."

"You probably shouldn't go back to that book," I mutter. "I'm sorry I woke you...but I thought I saw..."

"Saw what?" Maya prompts.

"Nothing." No point worrying her. I turn to the desk.

She steps closer, and tugs on my shirtsleeve. I turn back towards her, and she gives me a winning smile. It has flowers and sunshine and rainbows written all over it.

It sends shivers down my spine, and I open my mouth to say something, but can't.

"N-no..." I croak. "What..."

"I think I know what you saw, Phoenix Wright..."

She tilts her head sidewise and the smile broadens. It's a dazzling smile – dazzling in a way that Maya isn't, yet it's on Maya's face.

Adrenalin surges through me, and every muscle is shaking. My nerves scream terror as Maya draws her fingers up my arm, my neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps, and caresses my cheek. Her fingers are cold, ice cold. No..what was she...but it couldn't be...can't be...this woman is dead and gone! Gone! My worst dreams are about her returning, she couldn't be, she isn't...

"This time, I win...Feenie."

_- The person the demon is possessing doesn't take on the demon's shape_

_- The possessed person's spirit doesn't leave the body because of this_

_- It doesn't have to be a spirit medium's body_

_- Demons capable of wreaking extreme havoc in the living world._


	2. The Urn Crumbles

-MAYA-

No, oh _please_, no!

I wake to the experience of seeing through your own eyes, but the person who is talking and walking and controlling every breath you take, controlling when you blink, even, is somebody else.

It's scary. Very, very scary. You want to believe it's a dream, but you know what dreams feel like and this isn't it. And you just feel so, so helpless and incapable of even warning...

"Hi, Phoenix."

Who...who has taken control of my body like this? Yes, a demon, like in the book I've just been studying! It has to be...I rack my brains, trying to figure out who, but it's difficult to concentrate. My eyes are staring at Nick. He's standing in the centre of the office. He's taken off his crumpled suit jacket, and his eyes are wild. At the sound of my voice, his head turns and he fakes a grin. "Oh, hey. Looks like you've woken up...Maya?"

Yes, Nick, work it out! I've caught a glimpse of this spirit's soul, and she's not friendly...

I yawn, and stand up. Nick tells me not to continue reading. Hah. I don't think that's what this spirit has in mind. Work it out! C'mon, use that brilliant mind...

And, oh, he is brilliant. He's the nicest person I know, and I rely on him so much. And this spirit definitely wants to cause him harm. _Don't think about what's happening to you..._

"I thought I saw..." he mutters, then stops, combing his fingers through his spiky hair.

"Saw what?" my mouth says.

"...Nothing." He quickly turns away from me, like something's unsettling him. Hell, something should be unsettling him.

I step closer, reach out and pinch the sleeve of his shirt with two fingers, tugging it gently. He turns around. I smile at him sweetly.

The sight of my smile hits him like a bullet to the head. He freezes, his mouth a hard, tight line, and he stares, shocked navy eyes _– those eyes, I love them_ – burning into my face. He hasn't ever looked at me so intensely. But this is for all the wrong reasons.

"N-no..." he says, his voice shaking, "What..."

My head tilts and I unleash the full force of my smile at him. "I think I know what you saw, Phoenix Wright..."

The name is said with bitter, bitter hatred – and a touch of something else, too. Grief, perhaps? Adoration? Jealousy?

I touch his hand, and it's hot, blazing, like touching flames. My fingers trail up the sleeve of his blue jacket, and he tries to flinch away, but is held immobile by shock. Which spirit could it be that is frightening him so much? I stand on tiptoes to trace the largest vein in his neck, digging the fingernails in for a second, then continue, up that strong jawbone...then my hand cups his cheek. His skin is scorching, though he is deathly pale.

"This time, I win...Feenie."

Oh...oh, my...oh...

Dahlia Hawthorne?! She must... be a demon...and she's possessing me!

I marvel at the cruel way my mouth says his old nickname, and I want to cry in shame at what Dahlia's words do to Nick. He was already shaking from my – Dahlia's – touch, and at the word Feenie, he just slumps.

"Dahlia," he says blankly. "I'm dreaming. This is a nightmare, right? Because...you're Dahlia..."

Right?

Oh, how I wish it were just a dream.

"Oh, Feenie," she says in my voice, albeit with a sugary, flowery inflection, "you recognised me! I'm _oh_ so touched."

He's hyperventilating, staring, staring at me, no, not me, the woman who ruined so many people's lives, who murdered and lied and ripped his heart in two. She's the reason why I'm not enough to him. She laughs, I feel a surge of power, and suddenly there's energy in my hands, tight and painful. I flex my fingers; they've turned into claws.

I back him into the desk and reach my mouth up to his ear, and she whispers "Now, make sure to remember who did this to you ...your darling little Maya..."

Then she rakes my claws down the side of his face.

He screams and clutches his cheek, dripping blood from four long narrow cuts made by, oh my God, my fingers...there's blood on my hands and there's blood dripping down his neck onto his white shirt, no, no, no...

Dahlia smiles viciously, and kisses his cheekbone on the uncut side. I've never been this close to him before but I can't enjoy it because he's bleeding, and looking at me with wide, terrified eyes. Slowly he removes his hand from his dripping cheek. His entire palm is painted with red. Red for fire and blood and Dahlia, who steps me back and giggles.

"Mia Fey, I hope you're watching...because that was just for you."

-PHOENIX-

And she laughs, and her eyes are a gleeful dancing red. This is Maya's face but oh, I know exactly who it is. Hatred wells up within me for her and for a second all I can see is _Dahlia_.

I stagger forward.

"Take THAT!"

It would be funny. It's not.

She blinks with confused grey eyes, steps backwards, and raises two fingers, the nails short and neat, to the red handprint on her face. I lower my upraised arm.

I just hit Maya.

"Nick," she says, like she's on the verge of tears. "Nick, I can't believe...I'm s-so s-sorry..."

Her tears wash away the red on her cheeks, my blood streaming down her face.

"M-Maya..." I say haltingly. "Maya..." And then I'm crying too.

Tears of blood, cried by Armando, Maya, myself. Because of Dahlia Hawthorne. _All because of her. _

I want to hug Maya, comfort her, tell her it's okay...but I can't. I can still remember Dahlia using her face, so that it looked just like her but horrible, twisted... And the blood is not yet dry on my own. It hurts. It's really, really painful. I realise that even if I wanted to talk, I wouldn't be able to.

We stand there, sobbing, each red tear a reminder of what that woman has done.


	3. The Urn Shatters

-MIA-

"Mia Fey, I hope you're watching...because that was just for you."

Oh yes, I'm watching. I'm watching alright. I like to keep an eye on those two – lately when they're in trouble, I've found myself receiving a dim view of their movements and thoughts. It's difficult and takes energy, but it's possible.

But I've recently been 'upgraded', you could say, to a higher status in the spirit hierarchy. Ha. It grates on me that I only became an 'angel' – a benevolent spirit capable of good deeds, materialising in the living world, etcetera – because I was so mad about Dahlia managing to become a demon - a more powerful evil spirit - herself. Diego Armando's life had been ruined because of that woman. Phoenix Wright had been hurt badly, very badly. All of it had affected Maya, though none of it was her fault. My own life had been changed forever - before it had ended, at least.

And now she's returned to haunt the living people closest to me.

I clench my teeth as I watch the scene unfold. Maya can see everything that is going on, I know. Dahlia is making her hurt Phoenix with her mouth, her own two hands. Oh, Phoenix...why does she hate you so much? I long to leave this shadowy half-world, to put a stop to this myself...

Wait, yes! I can!

_Diego...I need some extra spiritual power, now! I'll take a lot to enter the living world without being channelled..._

_Consider it given. That devil...she's got claws, Kitten, and they're sharper than yours, judging by the look on Wright's face._

Diego's energy flows into me; it tastes like coffee and smoke. I take a glimpse at the scene below to see what he means, and hiss in rage. _She sliced Phoenix's face open! With Maya's hands! I am going to get that...that monster!_

_Well said, Kitten. Pass on my regards..._

Soon, I'm falling, through the twilight haze that surrounds you when you're being channelled. I begin to assume a physical form; it's just like myself when I was younger –

Wait, wings? Oh, for goodness' sake. They're long, feathery and a rich, chocolate brown. What on earth do I need these for? What's next, a halo?

Then the grey clouds clear, and I'm flying.

I only hope that I'm not too late.

_Pass on my regards..._

-MAYA-

Will Nick ever be able to trust me again, now that he's seen Dahlia sneer at him with my face? No, what am I thinking, he'll trust me! He's a kind person, and never unreasonable. Unreasonable, irrational...that's me. That's my role, to be the kid who never stops asking for a burger or a new DVD, never stops teasing him or telling him off for being kind to me.

No one could actually be that hyper all the time. Some of it's got to be an act. He knows this, and I'm sure it's why he puts up with me.

We stand there, staring at each other for what seems like hours rather than only seconds. He'd cross a burning bridge for me. But what about when the river below is made of flames as well?

"Nick-" I start to say again, when suddenly, his eyes widen and he's looking over my shoulder.

I turn around slowly. A butterfly with burning wings is circling in the air. A tinkling laugh rings through the office and I see a flash of red, like hair, waving in the still air. I catch a glimpse of a white face, and a cold, contemptuous smile.

"Go away," I whisper. "Go away!"

Then she's speaking to me, only to me.

_You're so lucky,_ she snaps at me. _Little Maya! Everyone loves you! He'd...he'd give his life for your pathetic train wreck of one!_ Her eyes flash dangerously, and spectral flames gather around her. I shrink back, moving closer to Nick. He's shivering, frozen still.

What?! Is Dahlia...jealous of me?

Tears of fire hiss their way down her cheeks, and now she's looking directly at Nick. "I hate you," she shrieks. "I hate you so much!" She steps closer ...closer...

Then Nick's on fire too.

-PHOENIX-

It feels like the flesh is melting off my bones. The wound on my face? A mere scratch to this pain.

She laughs at me in my head, mad and deranged. _Phoenix Wright, you belong to me. I hate you! I hate her! I'm going to have my revenge on Mia Fey!_

She jerks my fingers slightly, takes a step.

_Maya Fey...you love her!_

_Wh..what are you talking about?!_

_You adore her, you are obsessed with her. And –_

We turn and look at Maya, who backs away quickly. My limbs are burning, burning. It's probably not a pretty sight.

Dahlia says slowly, wonderingly, sounding more like Iris for a second, a single, shocking nanosecond–

_I'm not her._

We lunge at Maya and just for half a second the flames, and therefore my flesh, coalesce into the shape of a giant, blue, flaming bird.

"Nick...Phoenix..." she whimpers. A detached part of me coolly notes that the office is intact; there's not so much as a scorch mark on my desk. This must be some sort of spiritual phenomenon, fire that doesn't actually exist...the ghost of fire? She's terrified, shrinking away from us. I try to stop, to step backwards, stop her looking so helpless -

"Dahlia Hawthorne," says a voice, causing us to stop in our tracks, burning hands a centimetre away from Maya's neck. "Why won't you just stay dead?"

We turn around and look, and there she is, silky brown hair swirling around her, a calm, determined smile on her face.

And are those wings? Dahlia curls my lip and laughs. The shock and burning is wearing off, and the horror of the situation is creeping closer by the second. This is real, this is not some freakish nightmare, this is happening to me, Dahlia has got my body she's controlling my every breath –

"I could say the same of you, MIA FEY!"

My every breath, my every word. I never thought I could say that name with so much hatred...


	4. The Urn Mends

-MIA-

Look what she's done to Phoenix's face. That sneer she's making him wear – it goes against the laws of nature! Add to that the red streaks down his face, and the ghostly fire hovering around him – he looks positively nightmarish.

She turns him back around with a sound of contempt. "Your sister is going to die right here in front of you, Miss Fey, by the hand of your beloved pupil, no less. I'll have my revenge on all of you!" And she laughs with Phoenix's mouth.

Every step is a triumph of energy for spirits materialising in the world of the living. I step closer, unfurl those stupid wings. Why do I have wings, anyway? I grit my teeth, take another step...

"That makes Phoenix the only one left standing," I shout at them. "Why?"

She turns away from the shivering Maya for a second. "Oh, it's punishment enough, I think. To live with these scars forever..." She touched a hand to his face, "to live with the knowledge that he killed his...his love with his own hands!"

His love? Oh, so she's caught up. It's fairly obvious to everyone that Phoenix and Maya are besotted with each other – obvious to everyone but themselves. Anyway, she hasn't killed Maya yet...but it's only a matter of time..

Wait...this can't be true.

Dahlia Hawthorne...is in love with Phoenix, after all this? I had thought that the capacity for love had been lost to her long ago. Maybe it's simply a dangerous obsession, mixed with jealousy for everyone and a realisation of what everyone has but her – someone to love.

Or maybe she really does love him...or her image of him, which I daresay would remind her of Iris.

"Dahlia Hawthorne, in love with Phoenix Wright? Who would have thought?" I yell, trying to get her away from Maya. I take another step. "You've lost again!"

"Oh, have I?" she laughs. "Have I, now?"

I take the last step and grab his, her, wrist. She jerks back, but I hold on with the last of my strength.

"You lost your chance a long time ago," I say. "Your own greed lost did this to you. You forced your sister to date him for six months...don't you just wish it had been you?"

"You have no proof!"

"Ah, the lawyer's mindset is getting to you."

Her navy blue eyes flash. "Fine! Fine!" I'm beginning to see her transparent image flickering into visibility. She's losing control. "I love him! Ever since I saw him again! Ever since I died, I've been watching him. In the trial...when you two banished me...fine, yes, you're right!"

She's insane, and dangerous. And I mean more than she was alive. That's really, _really_ saying something.

"Get out of Phoenix's body, now."

"No!"

"Now."

"I..."

"NOW!"

I slap Phoenix across the face. "Take THAT!"

He screams in pain, as does Dahlia.

"You win...once again..."

"Like always. Forever and always and every single time. Give up!"

Dahlia is fading, finally. "Oh, but I'll be back!" She laughs shrilly and tosses her hair back. "And I'll win..."

And she's gone.

-PHOENIX-

With the slap across the face came an immense surge of power from Mia, made from love for Diego, Maya, her mother, myself, and from hate for Dahlia Hawthorne. I heard Dahlia's scream in my head, echoing, reverberating, driving out all –

Then the pain's gone.

I look up, and Mia is smiling at me. Feathers brush against my cheek. I raise a hand to touch it. It's whole, unscarred, even if my heart isn't.

"Thanks, Chief...Mia..."

I blink. Maya and I are alone in the office. I stagger, but Maya catches me, letting me lean on her.

For once, I'm leaning on her...

"Maya, I'm sor-"

"Don't say it."

So I'm silent. We manage to make it to the couch, and sit there in silence for a while.

"I...Nick, all I ever do is hurt you. How can you apologise to me, ever, for anything? I should be apologising!"

I'm stunned. What?

"But..." I'm still trying to understand her statement. "But you stay with me through everything...no matter what...I can't get my head around you leaving. I can't handle it. I want to thank you for staying, but then..."

A chilling scream echoes through my head, but I firmly shut it out.

"But then she comes and threatens you with death, through me! And..."

None of my thoughts are making sense. I'm too tired, I can't properly express how I feel. I'm beginning to suspect my deepest convictions aren't logical either.

"You just mean so much to me, it's a miracle that you stay with me at all. And I have to apologise for not stopping Dahlia because I feel so guilty and I owe it to you. That's how I feel. So...Maya, I'm sorry."

There. It's out of my system now. And I feel strangely light. I look firmly away, convinced that I'm blushing.

"Nick, it's strange..." She reaches up and cups my cheek, feather light hand against my skin, and this time it comforts me instead of chilling my blood. "Because that's exactly how I feel, too."

We close the gap –

And everything is alright. Not fully, not forever. But just for this moment, as long as you're mine...the urn is being mended, not perfectly, but that will have to be enough.


End file.
